Hairy Reflections
by LisaT
Summary: Admiral Kathryn Janeway reflects. Takes place around the time of ST: Nemesis. Implied JC. Please R&R.


**Hairy Reflections**

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_This is a spot of fluff, really. It's a KJ introspective taking place around the time of_ ST: Nemesis._ The idea popped into my head after watching the specials on the DVD box set from season 1 about the angst over Kate Mulgrew's hair! Reading the _Voyager Companion _gave me a few more ideas... I hope people enjoy this, and, as always, please review. Oh, and I hate the title, but they've never been my strong point.. ; )_

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Admiral Kathryn Janeway heaved a sigh of relief as she closed her front door. It had been a long day- longer, even, than usual, thanks to the current Romulan crisis, and she was glad to be home. 

"Kathryn? Is that you?" The voice came from the study, beyond the open-plan kitchen and living room.

Janeway rolled her eyes as she slipped out of her boots, wincing as her shin muscles protested. "As far as I know. You weren't expecting anyone else, were you?"

There was a slight pause, then: "Oh, yes, that's right. I had to get rid of the latest floozy. There. She's just disappeared out of the window."

Kathryn rolled her eyes again. "I'm not sure you working from home was such a good idea!"

"H'mm. It has its advantages. How was your day? Aren't you going to come in and say hello?"

"Not immediately," Kathryn called back as she picked up her boots and headed for the stairs. "I want to freshen up first."

"All right." Another pause. "The coffee's just brewed, by the way."

Kathryn hesitated, one hand on the banister. "Why didn't you say so?" She dropped her boots again and went to grab a cup of her favourite form of sustenance, took a reviving gulp, called her thanks, and finally headed up to the bedroom.

Once there she shed her uniform- thinking that at least the rank bars were harder to lose than the four pips she'd worn as a captain- and then entered her bathroom. She smiled as she inhaled the warming scent of vanilla and cinnamon- smells of home, smells of childhood. She turned the taps and leaned on the side of the bath, her eyes closed, feeling the strains and tensions of the day drain away, lulled by the sound of the water and the peace of this room, her haven.

Discomfort roused her. It took a moment for her tired brain to process the source, aware only of the digging sensation in her scalp. Grimacing slightly, she pushed herself up, away from the bath and towards the basin and the mirror, still clear of steam due to the pipes that circulated warm water behind the glass.

"Wonderful technology," she mumbled as she stared at her reflection. She frowned. She looked tired and stern and old. Maybe a little steam wouldn't be such a bad idea, she mused. She looked closer, tracing the lines about her eyes with a forefinger. Those lines were scars of battle, earned during seven hard years in the Delta Quadrant.

She sighed and plunged her fingers into her hair, seeking the nest of hairpins that anchored the bun to her head. A grin flickered across her face, remembering the _Voyager_ crew's affectionate term for the similar style she'd worn in those first years of their exile: the Bun of Steel. The smile faded as the locks of mingled brown and red and gold- and yes, the odd thread of grey- fell across her shoulders and back in a warm rush. The difference it caused in her appearance was immediate, making her look instantly younger, warmer, softer. The antithesis of the tightly-coifed admiral.

Kathryn smiled in satisfaction as she ran a brush through her hair. The woman in the mirror was not Admiral Janeway, but Kathryn. It felt good. At times like these, Kathryn realised how much of herself she'd lost when she'd hacked off her mane early in the fourth year of their journey.

Still thinking, she stripped off and descended into her bath, relishing the velvety feel of the bubbles and the heat. A lock escaped from it's temporary binding- butterfly clips were not always the most efficient means of anchoring hair, she thought. She twisted it up again, and sank back.

During their years in the Delta Quadrant hair had symbolised the dichotomy of her personality and role- when up, she'd been the intrepid Captain Janeway. When down, she'd been Kathryn, a vulnerable woman capable of admitting her feelings and needs. As the years went on, she'd lost that, becoming completely the captain- the protector, the saviour, the mother, the disciplinarian, the scourge, the bitch…. but never, somehow, only Kathryn.

The sound of her name roused her from her stupor, and she pulled herself up, changing into loose, comfortable clothes, ready for a relaxing evening at home with the man she loved.

As she went down the stairs, she remembered the aftermath of their return.

The first thing she'd done when they were safely back in the Alpha Quadrant- when all the hearings and review boards and disciplinary proceedings were over, when at last she could proclaim that the Voyager crew was indeed home- had been to visit the Doctor and demand that he accelerate her hair growth, returning it to its original length. The EMH had simply raised an eyebrow and complied with her request.

The next day- Janeway's first as an Admiral- the Bun was back.

So was Kathryn.

A week later she and Chakotay had a long postponed talk.

Neither of them pulled any punches. Rank was irrelevant- Chakotay had accepted the long-desired position of Anthropology professor at the Academy. It was time.

A month later they moved in together.

They were home.

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_Don't forget to review! Thanks for reading. _


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